Ouch
by sga gatekeeper
Summary: A fic set in my Meredithverse that isn't part of the Adaptation timeline. John gets whumped.


**Author's Note: Sweet baby Jesus I hate this fic. I've been so, so blocked when it comes to John/Mer that I just wanted to write something to get back into the habit of playing with them. This is the outcome. Kelley promises that you guys will like it. Also: this does not follow the regular timeline. This is just something random, but don't forget to drop me a comment! **

The first thing Meredith notices when she stomps into the bedroom is the John-shaped lump huddled under the covers. It's enough to make her pause. She'd been annoyed when she returned from her overnight trip offworld with Teyla to find that John wasn't waiting for her in the control room, but now, she's a little worried.

An evening nap isn't quite like him.

She drops her bag beside the doorway and frowns when he doesn't even stir. Crossing the room quickly, she rounds the bed and sinks down on the mattress closest to where she thinks his head might be. Reaching out, she tugs the covers down slowly and brushes her hand against his forehead. She's alarmed to find how warm he is.

"John?"

"Nngh," he moans and she watches as his eyes flutter open slowly. It takes a moment until she sees the recognition in his eyes and then he makes a valiant attempt at smiling. It looks more like a grimace. "Hey… welcome back."

"What are you still doing in bed?" She asks. "You haven't been here all day, have you?"

"I dunno," he mutters. "Wha' time z'it?"

She cocks an eyebrow. "Nineteen hundred."

"Oh man," he groans, flopping back against the pillow. "Got up for awhile this morning to do some paperwork, but then I came back and laid down. I didn't mean to sleep so late."

"Are you sick?" She asks. She knows as soon as it leaves her mouth that it's a stupid question, but he doesn't even call her out on it.

"S'just my stomach," he says, groaning a little. "And my head. But mostly my stomach."

"Well, have you been to see Jennifer?" She asks and her hand is back on his head. "You're really warm."

He reaches up and swats her hand away. "That's because I've been under this stupid blanket all day," he says. "I'm fine. I just uh… may have had a little too much to drink last night with Ronon."

Meredith narrows her eyes. "You didn't come down to the gate room to make sure I was still alive because you have a _hangover_?" She asks. He flinches just a little and gives her his best pathetic look.

"I uh… I'm really glad you made it back okay?"

"You're an ass," she says, standing up. He reaches for her, which must be a mistake because he groans and doubles over, arms wrapped around his middle. She just scoffs. "Serves you right."

"Meredith…I'm sorry."

"Oh no, no, no. You haven't even begun to feel sorry yet," she says. "You're gonna be making this up to me for awhile."

John groans again and flops back down against the mattress.

.::.

Meredith has always secretly admired John's ability to suffer in manly silence. She's lost count of just how many times he's hurt himself offworld or sparring with Ronon and though she knows his injuries must hurt like hell, it's very rare that he utters a word.

Which is why he's got her a little worried.

She's still a little annoyed that he drank himself sick with Ronon while she was offworld on a planet that had never heard of indoor plumbing, but even her irritation isn't enough to keep her from keeping a close eye on him.

Especially when he stumbles out of the bathroom, hair still dripping from his shower, and collapses on the bed.

She shuts down her laptop and joins him. Sinking down on the mattress beside him, she leans over and rubs his lower back gently. He flinches a little at first before he relaxes into the touch.

"I am never drinking Athosian wine again. Ever."

"I'm holding you to that," she says, leaning down to press a kiss to his bare shoulder. "Still not feeling any better?" He grunts in response before he rolls over onto his back, looking up at her pathetically. His face is paler than she cares for and she can see the lines of pain etched around his eyes. "I really wish you would let me call Keller. As much as I hate to admit it, this _is_ her area of expertise."

"No," he grumbles. "I'll be fine. I just… need some more sleep or something," he says as he shifts against the bed. She watches as he swallows back a groan at the movement before he settles onto his left side, arms wrapped protectively around his belly. "Never, ever again."

Privately, Meredith thinks he's wrong, but she curls up behind him, hand resting gently on his hip. "Feel better soon, John."

He grunts in response.

.::.

Meredith is jolted awake by the firm grip on wrist. For a moment, she thinks about slapping John's hands away because she's _tired_, but then she remembers that he isn't feeling well, so she sits up, squinting in the darkness.

"John?"

All she receives is a pitiful groan in response.

"Jesus… _On_!" She says loudly and thankfully, Atlantis knows she isn't playing around because the lights come on. Meredith is kind of horrified at what she finds.

John is curled up on his side, breaths coming out in short, painful gasps. His face is flushed and his forehead is soaked with sweat. Simply put: he looks like shit.

"What's wrong?" She asks, already reaching for her radio. He doesn't answer though, because when he opens his mouth, he starts to gag. She barely moves in time to keep from being thrown up on. "Oh Christ." She shoves the radio into her ear and smacks it forcefully. "McKay to Keller!"

"Meredith?" Jennifer sounds tired, but too fucking bad. "What's the matter?"

"I need a medical team to our quarters. Something's wrong with John."

"Okay." Meredith hears the sound of shuffling around and seconds later, Jennifer sounds much more alert. "Can you describe his symptoms?"

"Uh… no, not really. He just threw up and it smells _awful_. Uh… his stomach has been bothering him all day and he's a little feverish."

"M… Meredith…" John groans and Keller is completely forgotten as Meredith focuses completely on him.

"I'm right here," she says because she thinks that's the right thing to say. "Keller and a med team are on their way, okay? Just… deep breaths."

"Meredith? Ask the Colonel if he can describe the symptoms he's feeling right now."

"He's feeling _shitty_ right now!" Meredith shrieks.

"Yes, I've gathered that and I know you think it's a stupid question, but if it helps me to diagnose him sooner, then—"

"Fine. Shut up." She reaches out, brushing John's hair back off of his forehead. "Keller says you need to tell me how you're feeling. I know that's ridiculous and stupid and—"

"—Sharp… stabbing pain… in my stomach," he manages. "Every time… I move."

"He says it's a sharp pain in his stomach whenever he moves," Meredith relays.

"Thank you… we're on our way now. ETA less than three. Keller out."

Meredith thinks it's probably the longest three minutes of her life. She's seen John in pain before, but nothing that's left him clinging to her hand this desperately as he tries to breathe through it. When the door finally slides open, Meredith can feel tears pricking the backs of her eyes as she pries John's hand off of hers so Keller can examine him.

"I need you to straighten out, Colonel. Can you do that for me?"

"I would… rather not."

"Marie, Andrew, get his feet. Jeff, you get his left side. On the count of three, we're going to get him onto his back so I can see what we're working with. John, we're going to move you and I need you to not fight us, okay? One, two—"

Meredith misses 'three' because all of a sudden, they've maneuvered John onto his back and he lets out a hoarse cry. She's tempted to pull them off of him, but she knows that this is for the best. They can't treat him if they don't know what's wrong.

"Andrew, make a note that the Colonel's pain seems worse when moved. John, other than the stomach pain, are you having any other issues? Nausea? Dizziness?"

"I feel… like I could puke again…" he manages, swallowing hard. Even from where Meredith is standing, she can see the greenish tint to his face.

"Okay… I'm going to check you out real quick and then we'll give you something to help with the nausea."

Meredith doesn't know exactly what Keller's doing, because her back is to her, but she must have done something wrong, because a horrific cry tears from John's throat. Meredith can't take anymore.

"What's wrong with him?" She demands.

"I'm pretty sure it's his appendix, but I have to get him under a scanner to be sure. Let's get him onto the gurney and then we'll administer the medication for the nausea."

"No… No, he said it was just a hangover! He drank too much with Ronon last night and, and, and…"

They've lifted John onto the gurney and Meredith feels a little like she's going to throw up. She's vaguely aware of Keller issuing orders to the nurses before her hands are on Meredith's shoulders.

"Listen to me… John is going to be fine, okay? But you're not going to be any good to him if you're freaking out. We're going to get him under a scanner so I know for sure what I'm dealing with and then, if we have to, we'll get him into surgery. He's going to be okay though."

"But, but…"

"Take a few minutes, get yourself together. Call Ronon and Teyla, let them know what's going on. It's going to be awhile before you can see him anyway so take your time getting down there, okay?"

Meredith wants to argue, but she finds herself nodding dumbly.

And then, just like that, she's alone.

.::.

It's almost two and a half hours later when Keller comes into the waiting room, pulling the surgical mask from her face. Meredith is on her feet immediately, arms crossed over her chest.

"It shouldn't have taken this long. What—"

"There were some slight complications," Keller says gently. "John is doing just fine now, but his appendix ruptured just before we got him into surgery."

Meredith feels the sensation of tears stinging her eyes and she has to sit back down. At her side, Teyla reaches for her hand, squeezing her fingers gently. "But… but he's okay?"

"He's okay," Keller says. "Marie is stitching him up now and then we'll be moving him into recovery. You're more than welcome to head on in there now. It shouldn't be too much longer."

Meredith doesn't wait to be told again.

—

It's three days before John is released back to their quarters. He's moving slowly, as if every step hurts his incision. By the time they make it inside, he's trembling just a little from the exertion as he eases himself down gently on the bed.

"Told you not to ditch the chair," Meredith says, but there's no venom in her voice.

"I don't like being wheeled around. It doesn't look good and it's not good for morale or… whatever."

She says nothing to that.

Instead, she helps him into a change of clothes, careful not to touch his stitches and then settles him back against the pillows.

"Are you going down to the labs?"

"Not today," she says, giving him a slight smile. There are really a million other things she could be doing, but right now, she only wants to be with him to remind herself that he's here and that he's okay. So she grabs her laptop and the first _Back to the Future _movie and settles in beside him, one hand resting carefully on his hip.

It's nice to have him back under her fingers.

"Hey," he says quietly, threading his fingers through her hair. "Are you okay?"

It's a little ridiculous that he's asking her that when he's the one who has one body part less than he was born with, but she understands why. As many times as she's sat and waited while he was in surgery, it never gets any easier. But as difficult as the last three days have been, right now, she's good.

So she nods and presses a kiss to his shoulder.

"But don't think I've forgotten that you have a lot of ass kissing to do when you're feeling better. I'm still mad at you."

She can feel the grin on John's lips as he leans down and kisses the top of her head.

"Yes dear."

"That's a start."


End file.
